


Family Heritage

by sunstarunicorn



Series: It's a Magical Flashpoint [7]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis, Flashpoint (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Family Drama, Family Secrets, Foreshadowing, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-09-27 13:17:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10022279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunstarunicorn/pseuds/sunstarunicorn
Summary: With Greg helping Danny, Wordy takes Lance and Alanna home with him.  The next morning, he finds two of his daughters sleeping on a gryphon and the third curled up next to a phoenix.  Where’d they come from?





	1. At the Wordsworth Homestead

**Author's Note:**

> This story is the seventh in the Magical Flashpoint series. It follows “The Ghost of Failures Past”.
> 
> Although all original characters belong to me, I do not own _Flashpoint_ , _Harry Potter_ , _Narnia_ , or _Merlin_.

“Okay, you two, time to go,” Wordy announced, coming out of the locker room after the long, stressful day.

Two pairs of eyes looked up at him, confused by his statement. “Aren’t we going home with Uncle Greg?” Alanna queried. Her brother bobbed his head in agreement.

Wordy huffed a sigh; apparently it had slipped his mind to tell them about tonight’s impromptu sleepover. “Your uncle’s taking care of the Rangfords tonight, so you’re with me,” he told them with as much cheer as he could muster. Twin nods of understanding greeted his words and both teens hopped off their chairs and trailed him out to his van.

As he started the van and pulled out, Wordy asked, “Either of you have keys to Sarge’s place?”

“Both of us, Uncle Wordy,” Lance called, “Uncle Greg wanted us to have ‘em ‘cause Team One works late so often.”

“Gotcha,” Wordy acknowledged. “Okay, we’re headed there first, so nab whatever you two need for an overnight.”

“School books?” Alanna asked.

Stopped at a red light, Wordy looked over his shoulder. “Need to look something up?”

Surprisingly, both teens flushed and nodded. “Green,” Lance chirped.

Wordy quickly turned back around and hit the gas. “Okay, but make sure it’s nothing my girls will get into.”

“Copy that,” Alanna confirmed playfully. While Aunt Shelley knew about magic, none of the three little girls did. It was something both teenagers suspected would change once Claire reached her eleventh birthday. While they’d never _seen_ Claire do magic, their own magic hummed in a way they recognized when they were near her. Alanna had even felt a whisper of the same from the younger girls, but she wasn't completely sure yet.

Wordy chuckled. “I guess we’re rubbing off on you two,” he teased. “Hey, what was that spell you used to fix Danny’s medals?”

Lance fidgeted a little; Alanna cast him a _Look_. “Oh…just something I found,” was the evasive reply.

Wordy rolled his eyes, wondering if the kid knew how obvious it was that he was holding back; normally, he couldn’t get either teen to shut up about new spells. He opted not to say anything, mostly because he suspected it had something to do with their ‘family magic’.

The rest of the drive to Sarge’s place was silent and Wordy’s van was soon turning into the parking garage that served the apartment complex. Wordy slid the van into a guest spot and the trio clambered out; heading for the elevators.

With all the reminders he’d had that day of past history, Wordy couldn’t help comparing the siblings in front of him with the kids he’d first met. Instead of cringing and yelping at the gears and noises of a moving elevator, Lance merely rolled his eyes at all the stops it was making tonight. Instead of wary poking at the simplest of flip phones, Alanna was scrolling through all the text messages she’d missed and replying to them, one after another. The elevator doors opened on Sarge’s floor and the group trekked off and down the hallway.

Wordy tilted his head at the sight of a young woman outside of Sarge’s apartment, knocking on the door. Her clothing looked as if it had seen better days and the woman herself looked a touch desperate. Long dark brown hair fell past the woman’s shoulders, ending partway down her back. As the trio got closer, Wordy could see that the hair was well-cared for, styled to set off the woman’s face and dangling earrings to best advantage. Sadly, the woman herself was not in the best condition at the moment, with tear-streaked eyes and makeup and the air of a former drug addict. She turned as she heard them coming and her eyes widened in alarm. “Lance? Alanna?” She wrung her hands. “Where’s Greg?”

One brow shot up, surprised that Sarge would know a former drug addict well enough to introduce her to his charges. Alanna made to bounce forward and her brother tugged her back. “Haley?” Lance queried. “Something wrong?”

Haley sniffled, trying not to cry again. “I broke up with Kevin.” This time, Alanna slipped past her brother and hugged the older girl around her waist. “He, um, he tried to make me promise not to come here anymore.”

“Deal breaker, huh?” Wordy asked, giving the young woman a gentle smile. “Sarge…uh…Greg’s helping an old friend of ours tonight; can we help you?”

Haley’s eyes might have been reddened and tear-streaked, but when she looked up at Wordy, they were clear. “You’re on his team?” she asked with a curious tilt of her head.

“Yep,” Wordy agreed. Offering a hand, he added, “Call me Wordy.”

The dark brunette freed a hand to shake Wordy’s. “Haley. I’ve known Greg since I was a kid.”

Lance slipped past her to open the door to Sarge’s place. “I’ll get our stuff, ‘Lanna,” he offered. “Haley, you want a soda?”

Haley looked over. “Sure. I’m guessing you’re not staying here tonight.”

Wordy answered for the kids, “Nope, sleepover at my place.”

Lance disappeared long enough to bring Haley a soda, then headed back inside to retrieve clothes for the next day and the books the siblings wanted. Alanna chatted softly with Haley, managing to draw a smile from the woman. Wordy listened with half an ear, putting in a few remarks here and there. Lance reappeared with a backpack slung over one shoulder. He pulled the door shut behind him, then turned and locked it. With a quick, economical movement, the teen had the backpack settled neatly on both shoulders. “Done,” Lance reported.

“We can walk you out,” Wordy told Haley.

“Thanks,” Haley agreed, brushing a stray lock of hair back behind her ear.

The foursome moved back down the hall, toward the elevators. The trip down was much faster than the trip up had been; Haley got off at the first floor with a farewell and a smile. Down in the garage, the teens scrambled up into the back of Wordy’s van and Wordy took the driver’s seat once again.

* * * * *

At the Wordsworth homestead, Alanna was dragged off at once by three excited little girls. Lance avoided the same fate by quite literally hiding behind Uncle Wordy. Once the four girls were gone, Lance poked his head out and pantomimed wiping sweat off his forehead. Uncle Wordy chuckled at the boy’s antics. “She’s gonna get you for that, you know.”

Lance snorted. “Gonna have to catch me first,” was the cheeky reply. Wordy shook his head and headed into the kitchen. He wanted no part of the inevitable retribution.

The teenager ducked down the hallway and found his way to the guestroom. He set his backpack down on the bed and pulled out the clothes he’d packed. He tossed Alanna’s clothing on one side of the bed and his own on the other. The books he left in the bag for the moment; instead he pulled out his faithful Nintendo DS and opened it up. He pressed down on the power button, praying the small device would still work. There was a long moment when nothing happened, but just as Lance’s shoulders slumped, the console came to life with its typical chirps and beeps. “Yes!” Lance hissed.

“Survived, huh?” Uncle Wordy asked from the doorway.

Lance looked over at his pseudo-uncle with a grin. “Yeah, it did. Wasn’t sure if it had, but, well, you know,” he finished with a flush and a look to the floor.

Uncle Wordy huffed a laugh. “Somehow, I don’t think Sarge would’ve begrudged getting a new one of those if he’d had to.” He smirked at the now bright-red teen. “Come on, sport, dinnertime.”


	2. Gryphon in the Guest Room

Wordy rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he sat up and switched his alarm off. Time to check on the kids, all of them, and make sure the teenagers weren’t having any nightmares. He shuddered; nightmares might be a common occurrence with his job, but that didn’t mean he liked them. He slid out of bed, snagging a shirt to pull on in the semi-darkness and trudged out the door, still tired.

On his way past his daughters’ room, the brunet poked his head in. Sleep vanished entirely at the empty beds. The blankets and sheets were in disarray, so the three girls had definitely started the night off in their room. With a muttered hiss, Wordy began searching the house for his wayward daughters. No need to wake up Shelley or panic unless he couldn’t find them.

Nothing in the living room, where he’d half-expected to find them trying to watch early morning cartoons or something of the sort. Nothing in the kitchen, either. The bathroom door was open and the lights were off, but Wordy peeked in nonetheless. He checked the playroom on his way by, but there was no sign of the three troublemakers.

At the guestroom, Wordy paused. The door was open, when he distinctly remembered Lance and Alanna closing it so they could read their books without interruptions the night before. The big man very gently pushed the door further open, so he could see better. The first thing he saw was a tail dangling off the edge of the bed, flexing every so often. A tail was odd, but what was even more unusual were the feathers attached to the tail. They spread out a little as he watched, then closed back up as the tail flicked upward. _What the…?_ Wordy stepped into the doorway to get a better look, then halted, utterly shocked by who, or rather _what_ , was on the bed. Massive wings were tucked close to the animal’s body as it slept, its tail still flicking and flexing. The dim light in the room reflected off a pair of wicked looking claws mounted on the animal’s front legs. The hind legs were not much better, as Wordy could tell they belonged to a large cat. The front legs were tucked close to the animal’s body while the hind legs sprawled out, much like the tail. Without the lights on, Wordy couldn’t see the animal’s head all that well, but, as he squinted, it didn’t look like a cat’s head. Curled up against the sleeping animal were Claire and Lilly. The pair had worked their way under one of the wings and were snuggled up against the animal’s fur coat.

Choking back his alarm, Wordy turned his head and felt his jaw drop. Allie was wrapped around a bird on the opposite side of the bed. The bird, whatever it was, was being held like a stuffed animal by Wordy’s youngest daughter. One arm had worked its way back to Allie and she sucked her thumb in her sleep. A contented trill came from the sleeping bird, though Wordy doubted it knew it was being held by a sleeping toddler. He tried to look closer, but Allie was just too much in the way to identify the mystery bird.

Careful not to make noise, Wordy backed out of the room and headed back to the master bedroom. “Shell,” he hissed, shaking her awake.

“Mmmm? Kevin?”

“Come on, you’ve got to see this.”

Shelley sat up, casting an annoyed look at her husband, who was now searching for something. “What is it?” she demanded.

The blonde, blue-eyed Shelley gave her husband a mock glare behind his back, running both hands through her hair and automatically pulling it back for the simple ponytail she usually used. One slim hand held her hair while the other found a convenient elastic band. Standing, the willowy woman was shorter than her husband, but only by a few centimeters. The mother of three would have rather slept a bit longer, but she knew Kevin well enough to know that he hadn’t woken her up for a lark. Even so, she stayed in bed, hording the warm spot under her as long as possible.

“Where’s the camera?” Kevin asked, hunting in the bedroom’s various drawers and hiding places. Naturally, the big man was also leaving a bit of mess in his wake. Men.

Shelley rolled her eyes, but made her way out of bed and shooed her husband away from the closet. She dug around for a minute, then backed out of the closet, holding the camera. “What do you need the camera for?”

“You’ll see,” Kevin reassured her, taking the camera and tugging his wife out of the bedroom. “Stay quiet, I don’t want to wake them.”

The warning was a good thing, for Shelley came very close to shrieking at the sight of her children curled up with a pair of wild animals. Kevin took several pictures and gently nudged her out of the room. The two adults inspected the pictures outside the bedroom, speaking as quietly as they could.

“Where did they come from?” Shelly asked.

“I think they’re Lance and Alanna,” Kevin admitted. “They were trapped in the briefing room with Danny and we could see some weird stuff by them on the thermals, but I don’t know how that would lead to, well, this,” he finished, gesturing at the camera’s screen.

Before the discussion could go any further, there was a startled cat noise from the bedroom, followed by a thump. Shelley found herself holding the camera as her husband darted into the room. She followed to see the cat-bird animal had vanished from the bed, leaving two little girls who were waking up to find that their ersatz pillow had disappeared. From the far side of the bed there was an annoyed sound that was partway between a cat-grumble and a bird-hiss. On the other side of the bed, Allie was squeezing the bird even tighter, resulting in an awake, unhappy animal. The bird was trying to squirm loose, making little, unhappy chirps. Shelley intervened, pulling her toddler off the bird; she ignored the complaining noises Allie made.

Kevin swept Claire and Lilly up from the bed. Aloud, he said, “Sorry, you two. We’ll see you in the living room.” A head poked up from where the cat-bird had fallen off the bed. An eagle’s head and eyes studied them a moment, somehow managing to give the impression of going wide with surprise. The now free bird spread its wings, the crest on its head lifting as the animal inspected its wings for any damage. The three girls made to complain, but their parents silenced them with _Looks_. All three pouted as they were removed from the guest room and hauled out to the living room. The pouts did not impress their parents one little bit.


	3. Animagi and Old Magic

Two heads poked into the living room where the Wordsworth family waited, their owners blushing so badly that Wordy was impressed that the teens hadn’t burst into flame. The three little girls were still pouting, more upset that their parents had removed them from their new ‘toys’ than repentant over sneaking out of their beds and into the guest room after they’d been ordered to leave the overnight guests alone.

Allie was the most upset and immediately demanded, “Where’s the birdie?”

Alanna’s face, already as red as her hair, made a valiant attempt to flush brighter. “I, um, I,” she stuttered.

“Allie, enough,” her father reprimanded. He surveyed all three children. “Go to your room until your mother calls you for breakfast,” he ordered.

“You’re grounded all weekend,” Shelley added, crossing her arms. When all three girls began to argue, she arched a brow. “Would you rather all week?”

Silence. With one more warning _Look_ , Shelley pointed in the direction of her daughters’ bedroom. The three went without further complaint.

“Sorry,” Lance whispered once the three little girls were gone. Neither sibling’s blush had abated; indeed, they looked as though they expected to be scolded themselves.

Wordy studied both teens for a moment. Then he smirked. “What are your intentions towards my daughters?”

“Kevin!” Shelley scolded, swatting her husband’s arm as the teenager stammered out something unintelligible, eyes wide with horror. Alanna giggled, brightening for the first time that morning.

“Relax, you aren’t in trouble,” Wordy reassured both kids. Then he lifted a brow, “Unless you planned on waking up as animals?”

Vigorous headshakes reassured both adults that the teens had had no such intentions. Shelley, who had had time to calm down, tilted her head. “What were those animals anyway?”

Both teens traded looks and Lance looked around the room for a moment. The blinds were closed; Wordy hadn't had time to open them up with the excitement of the morning. With a shrug, he turned a bit to the side and brought one arm up. “Go ahead, sis,”

“But…” Alanna protested, only to stop at her brother’s encouraging look. She sucked in a breath, then leapt up and _blurred_ , her form shifting and compressing as the two stunned adults watched. The half-grown animal landed on Lance’s outstretched arm, making the boy grunt a little as he took the weight. Wings spread outward, ruffling Lance’s hair and creating a small breeze in the room. The bird’s crest lifted and she let out a brief snatch of song.

Wordy let out a low whistle as he surveyed the beautiful animal. Without Allie in the way, the bird was much clearer. Deep indigo wings and tail feathers glimmered in the living room’s light, a color the head crest shared. The animal’s body and head were a lighter shade of violet, a color that was speckled along the underside of the bird’s wings, like freckles. The tail feathers, hanging down below Lance’s arm, formed a half-moon shape and ended in points that were the same lighter hue of violet.

“What is she?” Shelley asked, lifting the camera and getting a picture-perfect shot of the majestic creature.

Lance grinned at both adults. “She’s a phoenix.”

“Okay…” Wordy considered, “What’s a phoenix?”

Both boy and bird tilted their heads, surprised by the question. Lance, though, rallied and replied, “Well, um, a phoenix is magic,” he grimaced at how obvious that statement was and kept going, “Phoenixes are fire birds, so yeah, they can control fire if they want to. Um…they can lift enormous loads, inspire allies with their singing, and their tears can heal.”

Wordy blinked at the somewhat jumbled deluge of information. “Sounds pretty impressive,” he observed. “So, how’d your sister turn into a phoenix?”

The phoenix backwinged off Lance’s arm and _blurred_ again, landing on the floor with nary a stumble. “Um, well, I guess technically we’re animagi,” Alanna said sheepishly.

“Magicals that can turn into an animal,” Lance filled in cheerfully. He shrugged, “Mine’s a gryphon.”

“Not here,” Alanna snapped before either adult could ask what a gryphon was.

“Geeze, sis, I know.”

Wordy could see why, the living room probably didn’t have enough room. But, well, he kind of _wanted_ to see the gryphon in the better light. So he shrugged at Shelley, who nodded and put the camera on the couch. Then the two adults hefted the coffee table out of the way, moving it over by the doorway. “Got enough room now?” Wordy asked.

Lance surveyed the room, then moved so he was in the center of the cleared area. Alanna moved over to Wordy and Shelley, the latter of whom snatched the camera back up. Then the teen _blurred_ and a gryphon stood in the living room. The wings were tucked close and the tail lashed lazily. For Wordy, the biggest surprise was the eagle eyes. They were the same shade as Lance’s instead of the yellow color he'd expected.

Shelley snapped a picture of the large animal from the side, getting as much detail as she could. Wordy ran his eyes over the gryphon, impressed by the shift of color from dark brown at the leading edge of the wings, to a slightly lighter shade on the rest of the wings and the eagle head. A very dark tan marked the majority of the lion fur, though the gryphon’s belly and chin had a lighter shade. The eagle claws looked rather awkward, but the gryphon had no trouble at all with standing straight or moving a bit to the side as Shelley snapped a few more photos. The lion tail arched up, over the back, showing off the tail feathers mounted on it. Dark brown darkened into black at their core and the feathers flexed outward, before ruffling back into position.

“Wow,” Wordy managed. “How the heck did Danny _not_ see you two?”

“Faith, trust, and a little bit of pixie dust?” Alanna offered. The gryphon promptly cracked up, making little snorts and cat noises before it _blurred_ and Lance reappeared, howling with laughter on the floor.

“If you say so, Tinkerbelle,” Wordy teased, ruffling Alanna’s hair. Renewed howling came from the floor and Alanna cast her brother a dirty look.

With a huff, Alanna crossed her arms and explained, a little. “Our dad was a gryphon animagus, as was his father before him.”

“Family magic,” Wordy filled in.

“Pretty much,” Lance agreed from his spot on the floor. “And before you ask, we don’t know why Alanna’s is different.”

“So real gryphons and phoenixes look like that?” Shelley inquired, her expression fascinated.

Both teens froze, trading looks. “Um…sort of?” Alanna offered.

“But not really,” Wordy concluded aloud. Twin sheepish looks confirmed it. “Hey, you two don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay, right, Shel?”

Shelley blinked at her husband, but tilted her head in agreement.

“Um, maybe someday?” Lance offered, finally climbing up off the floor.

Wordy took the opening and ruffled the boy’s hair. “Works for me, sport.” His grin grew wider. “So…how ya gonna break the news to Sarge?”


	4. Forging Narnia’s Future

In a not too distant location, the Gringotts branch of Toronto was, as always, open for business. In the warrens behind the offices and out of the eyes of curious wizards, a most irregular meeting was taking place. A goblin account manager was meeting with a goblin emissary with news of recent events in the non-magical world.

“They have unlocked their familial forms?” the emissary inquired. As with most of his kind, he stood roughly a meter and a third high, had stringy white hair, and possessed pointed features.

The account manager smiled, a truly unnerving sight to any non-goblin as the smile displayed his sharp teeth. Unlike the emissary, his hair was well-groomed; a necessity for dealing with wizards. He sat behind a desk, while the emissary sat in a chair placed before the desk. The door was shut and carefully warded. “Indeed, they have,” he confirmed. “They are unlikely to discover why the female’s form is a phoenix; it has been centuries since a blood-female was born to the line.”

“What of their magic?”

“What of it? Their mother was well-chosen, for all that the late Lord’s father expected him to marry within Britain, as all of their kind is expected to.”

The emissary’s eyes narrowed. “Ah…” he observed. “The magic has returned, then?”

“Yes. The first true Wild Mages seen in generations.”

“Such a pity that they are being raised in the _Muggle_ world,” the emissary sneered.

“Oh?” the account manager queried. “I do not see it so, indeed I do not.” He leaned forward in his seat. “Truly, their blood-kin has been far more than even _we_ could have expected. He accepted them into his home with nary a word of complaint and has been most vigilant in their defense and protection.”

“The female was kidnapped,” the emissary pointed out.

Another grin, this one even more fearsome than the last, flashed across the account manager’s face. “And her blood-kin’s team came down on the offender with far more weight and speed than any _wizard_ would have. No,” the account manager concluded thoughtfully, “The choice of guardian was well-made. Their power would have been stifled and ignored at Hogwarts; here it is challenged and stretched. They may even, in time, outshine the greatest wizards of our time.”

“And the _Muggles_ they have accepted as family?”

The account manager studied his companion sharply. When he spoke, his anger vibrated in his words. “You do not approve?”

A sputter. “They are _Muggles_.”

The account manager shook his head slowly. “I see now why you have never risen above your current station,” he sneered. “When you have deigned to open your eyes, please do inform me.” He raised a hand before the emissary could protest. “Do not increase your shame by arguing. Instead, you may hasten to Narnia and inform the Kings and Queens of Old that their young cousins will soon require Narnian forged weapons. A sword, I believe, for the young male and a fine bow for the young female.”

“Not goblin forged?” the emissary asked, his unhappiness apparent.

A harsh noise came from the account manager as he laughed at the emissary. “Certainly not! Goblin forged will never suit such strong Wild Mages. Only that which contains Narnia’s own steel and wood will serve.”

“What of their wands?” the emissary sulked. “Those were crafted here, far from Narnia’s shores.”

The account manager snorted, but did not directly reply. “Their wands are none of your concern,” he snapped. “Now go!”

The emissary fled from the room, though he did slam the door on his way out. The account manager growled, making a mental note to never allow the emissary close to those the young Wild Mages called family. It would be such a pity to clean up the resulting mess. He leaned back in his chair, smiling to himself. Ah, it _had_ been interesting to watch as a group of Muggles made short work of Locksley’s arrogant Aurors and fine amusement when she had discovered her long-lost nephew amongst the Muggles’ ranks. The large Muggle with three daughters would soon discover their _talents_ for himself; that too promised great amusement for the dour account manager.

He chuckled aloud, thinking of the reaction both Wild Mages would have were they to ever discover that their ‘family grimoire’ was nothing of the sort. It was, rather, an Old Magic spellbook passed down within the family and hidden during the reign of King Uther of Camelot. In times past, the spellbook’s knowledge had been openly shared by the Calvin family with their fellow wizards. But as time passed, the usage of Old Magic had fallen away, replaced by the weaker and easier Latin spells. Perhaps, the goblin mused, the two Wild Mages would revive the Old Magic, teaching others to use the ancient spells. Regardless, it would be _most_ intriguing to see what the Wild Mages and their Muggles would do next.

“Aslan is on the move.”

 

_~ Fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! At least for this story. Please, join me again next Tuesday (March 14th, 2017) as we start another twisted episode: Between Phoenix Flames. As always, I look forward to any/all comments, either on this story or one of my other stories.


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